Andy Jackson: The Lightning Thief
by Grey-Rain-Cloud
Summary: "The Great Prophecy is approaching." A hiss of breath. "You cannot know this." A flash of fury contorted Apollo's face, but he stayed silent. Just closed his eyes for a moment, his lips pursing unnoticeably in concentration. The smell of the sea seemed to appear out of nowhere. A pale hand grabbed and squeezed Apollo's throat, "What have you done! Why have you called him!"
1. Kittens, huh?

**Andy Jackson: The Lightning Thief**

_Prologue._

Kittens, huh?

The nursery was blue. Not the normal powder blue that was common for babies, but a dark navy. The furniture was miss-matched—probably from flee-markets or bargain shops—and painted white. The crib was also white, and the mobile hanging above it had plush and smiling flowers. A man in his early twenties with golden hair and clear-sky eyes walked up to the crib. He wore blue jeans and a white dress shirt, three buttons at the top loose to show off bronzed skin. The room seemed lighter with him in it.

He peeked into the crib and at the baby it held. Black hair, pale skin, chubby cheeks, and a pink sleeper with kittens on it. The man chuckled, "Kittens, huh? How do you feel about that one Uncle H.?" He smoothed down the babes black hair tenderly.

As soon as he had touched the child though, shadows gathered, blocking out what light the blond man had brought.

"What are you doing here Nephew?" A low voice emerged from the shadows, along with another man. This man seemed like the opposite of the first. Black hair, pale skin, black eyes. He looked curiously like the baby.

"Just visiting Uncle." The blond smiled innocently, his eyes playful.

"Apollo." The dark man obviously wasn't feeling as light-hearted as his nephew, his tone now threatening and his eyes—filled with either madness or genius—showed power just itching to be unleashed.

Apollo sobered. "The Great Prophecy is approaching."

A hiss of breath. "You cannot know this."

A flash of fury contorted Apollo's face, but he stayed silent. Just closed his eyes for a moment, his lips pursing unnoticeably in concentration. The smell of the sea seemed to appear out of nowhere, out of place in the sky scrapers and apartment buildings of New York City.

A pale hand grabbed and squeezed Apollo's throat, "What have you done?! Why have you called him?!"

"I think the more appropriate question, Brother, is what are _you_ _doing_?" A third man, black hair like his brother but with weathered skin and stormy sea-green eyes appeared out of nowhere. He took in the scene in front of him—Apollo gasping fruitlessly in his uncle's harsh grip—and frowned. "Hades, let go of our Nephew."

Hades scowled at his brother—his eyes looking fearfully to the babe no matter how he tried to hide it—and did so, but not before squeezing one last time. Apollo fell to his hands and knees, gasping and choking. Slowly he stood, his eyes watery and a blooming bruise at his throat, but he spoke firmly and with only a slight rasp. "The Great Prophecy is approaching."

Hades rolled his eyes, his hand twitching, "You have already said that, and I'll repeat myself also: 'You cannot know this.' And just why have you brought Poseidon here?"

Poseidon raised his hand cheekily, "I'd like to know this as well." His eyes strayed to the crib. "Have you sired another child Nephew? Your cabin's getting a bit full is it not?"

Fury showed on Apollo's face again, his eyes taking on a sunlight gold hue, and this time it stayed. "Of course I would know when the Great Prophecy is coming! As everyone in this _family_ seems to forget I am the god of prophecies! I don't just drive a car across the world in the morning and hit on everything in a skirt as you all seem to believe! And my cabin is _full_ because unlike most of the gods I _claim_ all my children!" The rage faded quickly though, and he smiled again, mischievously. "And this little bundle of joy isn't _mine_, right Uncle H.?" He picked up the baby, who was now awake. She was blinking sleepily, but seemed content in Apollo's arms, even snuggling closer for warmth. "Oh, and her eyes are still blue! I bet they won't be for long though; black would suit her better! Don't you agree, Uncle?" He laughed lightly, and the baby smiled toothlessly in response.

Later Poseidon and Hades both would puzzle over the angry rant that had come so uncharacteristically from their laidback nephew and marvel at how at ease and comfortable Apollo was with holding an infant.

Now though, "Brother," Poseidon said, all calm waters, "did you break the Oath?"

Hades glared at Apollo, showing who he blamed and promising retribution. "Yes, but you will not harm her!" He positioned himself in front of his daughter, and by proxy, Apollo.

Poseidon scoffed. "I'm not like you and Zeus. I will wait until I decide that she has slighted or offended me before I smite her. I wouldn't kill her for being born, that's barbaric." He smiled lopsidedly. "Now let me see my niece!" What he did not say was that he already knew of Zeus' daughter, Thalia Grace, and he had not killed her. Apollo sidestepped Hades and without hesitation deposited the now wide awake and curious baby in Poseidon's arms. Poseidon cooed shamelessly at the tiny girl. Hades gave him a strange look. "What?" Poseidon asked defensively, "I never get demi-god daughters and you know it." He looked back at the girl, who looked at him adoringly. "What's her name then?"

Hades looked reluctant, but ground out, "Andromeda Persephone Jackson."

"That's a mouthful."

Apollo grinned, "Is her middle name your wife's in hopes of placating her?"

"Yes. Persephone is also her godmother. Apparently." Hades looked like he wasn't sure what to think about that. He had wanted her middle name to be Artemis in hopes that it would inspire her to become an eternal maiden. His expression cleared. "Why are we here, Apollo?"

"We are here, Uncle," Apollo sighed, "because little Andromeda here, is the child of the Great Prophecy." The two brothers opened their mouths but Apollo flapped his hands impatiently. "No, I have not told my father. I stopped telling him things like this a long time ago: he never believes me. He always insists that _I_ am the paranoid one and brushes my concerns aside. Then of course he _conveniently_ forgets that I spoke to him before hand when the actual thing happens." Apollo snorted in disgust.

The brother's expressions stayed the same, but they were both shocked, thinking about how much could have been prevented if their youngest brother would listen to his son—they knew of course that Apollo's twin, Artemis, was Zeus' favorite (along with Athena), but that didn't mean he should completely disregard Apollo's advice—but Apollo once again spoke before they could. "There is always a chance for either side to win, obviously, but the most likely for us to win was with a child of Poseidon." Apollo smirked. "Unfortunately, Uncle P. has too much will power and kept it in his pants." Poseidon looked both offended and smug.

"Why must it be Poseidon's spawn?" Hades asked.

"I said the _most likely_ to win was a child of Poseidon, not that it _had_ to be. The second most likely was a child of Hades, and it would have never been Zeus' kid."

"Why?"

"Too power-hungry. It's not really their fault either, just their fatal flaw." Apollo shrugged; Poseidon wondered what this meant for Thalia, as she was older than Andromeda. "There _is_ a way to make the chance of winning even _better_ than if it was Uncle P.'s kid though, _with_ Andy."

The brothers stared at him. "_Well?_" Hades snapped impatiently—he tried to ignore the fact that Apollo had just given his daughter a nickname.

"Alright! But you're not going to like it much." He paused for a deep breath. "Uncle P. needs to give her the powers that his demi-god children have." He considered. "Maybe not even as powerful, but we want to cover all our bases right?"

Hades took his daughter from his brother. "Is that all?" It didn't seem that bad. Sure, he was offended that his powers wouldn't be enough, but he didn't know the hardships that his daughter would go through and he wanted her to be as prepared as she could. Plus, then she would be the most powerful demi-god to ever live.

"No. Uncle P. needs to claim her as his daughter until the end of the war or close to it. Also, you need to forget that you have a daughter until she arrives at camp." Hades looked ready to start yelling, but then he looked down at the calm baby he was holding. She seemed the most relaxed in her father's arms.

"Why?" He asked harshly—and quietly.

Apollo looked genuinely apologetic. "I don't know the specifics, Uncle, but you know that Zeus is especially hard on your children, and the other kids at camp will need to accept her right? But nobody accepts your kids right now because you're associated with death. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, _she_ can know about _you_."

"And who's going to tell her?" Hades scorned, showing his grudge against the Olympian's.

"I will." Apollo replied promptly. "I will also be her patron."

Poseidon, who had just been looking back and forth between his brother and nephew like he was watching a beach volleyball match, looked at Apollo in surprise. "Really? You've never had any interest in having a champion before." There was a question there. _Why not?_

"Being my champion means that, just like me, the champion cannot lie. People don't tend to enjoy that, much less appreciate it."

"You can't lie?"

Apollo gave them both a _'duh'_ look. "I'm the god of truth." It sort of made sense, but Hades and Poseidon hadn't known that their nephew had to always tell the truth, and honestly, there had been many times that Apollo's word had been dismissed as exaggeration or false.

Poseidon was convinced. He reached out for Andromeda's hand and held it for a moment. A white glow surrounded the palm of her hand, and when Poseidon let go there was a tiny blue flower that changed to sea-green before Hades and Apollo's eyes, and then looked silver like the ocean glimmering with sunlight, then back to blue again.

This had happened so quickly that Hades could do nothing but stand there. "What did you do? Why did you do that?" It was hard to be intimidating to his brother normally, but it was virtually impossible when you held a baby in a pink sleeper with kittens on it and had to use your _inside voice._

Poseidon smiled down at his niece. "What? I gave her the equivalent of my demi-god children's power. The mark will grow with her power—which will be given slowly because it will be harder for her to adjust to it seeing as she's naturally inclined to shadows and death."

"Was the mark _necessary_?" Hades placed Andromeda back in her crib.

"Well… no. But it is pretty and shows that I am forever her pretend father. She'll like it too, and there'll be none of that teenage rebellion about wanting a tattoo because she's already got one! Really, I've done you a favour."

Hades looked unimpressed. "And there is no way that I can keep my memory? I will miss out on watching her grow up."

"Don't worry about that Uncle H.!" Apollo looked thrilled. Everything was going perfectly. His smile was blinding. "I'll record and photograph all the good stuff—maybe even some of the boring stuff—and I'll give it to you!"

Hades grunted. He felt a mixture of pride and fear that his child was the Prophecy child. "Fine. But you'll need to tell Sally."

"Already got that covered." Apollo said. "I'm talking to her in her dream at this very moment and explaining everything to her. And I must say, good pick Uncle. She's very accepting, probably because she can see through the Mist—not to mention her good looks." He rubbed his hands together, then said in his 'God Voice', "Andromeda Persephone Jackson. I, Apollo, god of the sun, hereby claim you as my champion, and I your patron." Dramatic music played from nowhere.

Hades and Poseidon shared a look, then Hades said, "I know. I can't believe we're related to him either."

Apollo frowned. "It was for effect! Now, Uncle P., could you kindly erase Uncle H.'s memory? Thanks." He flashed out.

Awkward silence reigned before Poseidon cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Well, let's get this over with."

"Wait!" Hades looked distrusting, "You will give back my memory when she enters camp won't you?"

"I swear on the River Styx that I will give you back your memory at the earliest time possible, Brother." Poseidon said, sad that Hades would think he would steal away Andromeda. Thunder roared in the background. Hades sighed in relief and Poseidon took that as permission and placed his palm on the paler god's forehead. His sea-green eyes went vacant, his thick eyebrows drew together. Poseidon pulled his hand back abruptly, closed into a fist. Hades collapsed, unconscious, and when Poseidon opened his fist there was a simple sea shell on a leather cord. He put on the necklace, then he snapped his fingers and Hades dissipated into a sea mist back to the Underworld. Poseidon looked at the baby girl in the crib once more saying, "Kittens, huh?" before disappearing the same way he had arrived.


	2. Rest In Hell

**Andy Jackson: The Lightning Thief**

_Chapter 1_

The Vaporization of a Pre-Algebra Teacher: Rest in Hell

Andromeda Jackson was tense. It was not because of the yellow school bus full of mental case kids on a field trip where there was most likely at least one who had motion sickness, so you had to be on your guard all the time in case one of the kids sitting close to you decided to blow. It wasn't because there was a Fury pre-algebra teacher that had most likely been sent to kill her was on the same bus just staring at Andy like she was a puzzle that was too exhausting to even _try_ giving an honest effort of figuring out. Nor was it the fact that Nancy Bobofit—a red-headed kleptomaniac girl with unfortunate orange freckles all over her face—was currently throwing bits of her peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich at the person that sat next to her. No, what was making Andy tense was the goat that had been stalking her for the whole school year.

Andy went to Yancy Academy, which was a private boarding school for troubled teens. (Was she troubled? Andy would say yes, because against her best efforts, she had been kicked out of every school by the end of the year—please note that she actually did make it to the end of the year every time, a fact that Andy was very proud of.)

To be fair, it wasn't really a goat that was stalking her, it was a satyr, but calling this kid a goat made her feel better because it sounded derogatory, and she thought she was doing an admirable job of not pepper-spaying the crap out of him. His name was Grover Underwood, he had brown frizzy hair, acne, a wispy beard, cried when he was frustrated, and was 'crippled'. There was not, in actuality, anything wrong with his legs—except for the fact that they were a barnyard animals. He used crutches to walk though, and it did _look_ painful. (This did not stop the other kids from making fun of him, like it should have. What can you expect from a school of future criminals? Manners? Yeah right.)

The point was, Grover was in all of her classes, and always insisted on sitting beside her even though he would sniff and whimper around her, obviously scared. Then he would sit close to her during lunch period—not close enough to actually require him to make conversation, but near enough to be creepy. And Andy knew that he knew where her dorm room was, because usually girls figure that stuff out when there are footsteps behind her and two people's shadows instead of one. At those times her fingers itched to whip out her slingshot or the mace Apollo had insisted that she have—not that she objected, she was a twelve year old girl in New York City, and precautions were necessary. Andy's mom had even looked happy, and she was usually either neutral or disapproving of Apollo's ideas.

Since Grover always insisted on sitting next to her in classes, it did not surprise her that the kid had sat next to her on the bus. This was why she was tense. Andy had pressed herself as close to the bus window as possible, her iPod blasting in her ears and pepper spray clutched in hand. She tried to feel bad for Grover, as he dodged yet another chunk of sandwich, because Apollo had said that he was most likely her 'protector', but she didn't think that he being her protector entailed stalking her. She felt no pity.

The bus stopped in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where the class would be looking at ancient Greek and Roman pieces. 'Mr. Brunner', Andy's Latin teacher, led the group through the museum. He was a guy who looked to be middle-aged and was in a wheelchair. His hair was thinning, his beard was scruffy, and he wore a fraying tweed jacket that perpetually smelled of coffee. He didn't sound like he would be that cool, but he was a favorite among his students—he told jokes and stories, played games for class, and had a collection of Roman and Greek armour and weapons that he brought out for tournament day(truthfully, saying that he was a favorite of the students wasn't that big of an accomplishment, the kids at this school were mostly rich and pretty much as a whole—besides a few—detested doing actual work, and many just thought that he was so easygoing that they could get away with not doing their homework and still pass the class—this was not that out there: the only student he seemed to actively push was Andromeda.)

Mr. Brunner rode up front in his wheelchair, through the echoing galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of old black-and-orange pottery. Mr. Brunner gathered them around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a sphinx on the top, and then he started telling the class about how it was a grave marker, a _stele_, for a girl around their age. He talked about the carvings on the side.

Andy had already been to this museum before, with Apollo for a lesson, but she paid attention nonetheless, there could have been something that she had forgotten or missed because of her ADHD. She ignored the rest of her classmates, who were talking around her. Andy could feel her voice crawling up her throat, desiring to tell them to shut up, but it died swiftly. Andy didn't want any extra attention, especially not when Mrs. Dodds was giving her the evil eye.

The Fury—'Mrs. Dodds'—wore a leather jacket despite the fact that she looked fifty, and was the pre-algebra teacher since halfway through the year when the last math teacher had had a nervous breakdown. _Because that's not suspicious at all_, Andy thought sarcastically, also thinking about how 'Mr. Brunner' had just appeared a week into the year, manipulating the Mist so that no one remembered the original Latin teacher. He probably hadn't thought that Andy would be strong enough to see through it. After all, Mr. Brunner thought that she was oblivious to the fact that she was a half-blood.

Mrs. Dodds treated Andy mean one minute, as if she was the bane of her existence and the next she'd almost look like she felt obligated to help Andy. This, the girl suspected, was why she had been doing better in math, there was a mixture of the kind of teacher that had always made her do more self-study in order to pass, and a firm but approachable-for-help kind of teacher (though this was only if you caught her at the right time.) A lot of the class thought that Mrs. Dodds must be bi-polar, but Andy knew that wasn't it—Mrs. Dodds could smell the sea on her and that told her to kill, but she could also smell the underworld and death, feel the coldness of Andy's aura that made all the other kids leave her alone or mark as outcast. Andy smelled like Lord Hades, and despite the fact that Mrs. Dodds had undoubtedly been given orders to kill her, this made her hesitate. (Her hesitation also made her furious though, which Andy suspected would tip her over the edge.)

"Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner claimed her attention again, obviously noticing that she had zoned out. Andy turned red; she should have been listening to this if she wanted to get a good mark. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" He pointed to one of the pictures on the _stele_.

Her face went back to its normal deathly pale color: she recognized it easily, it was one that Apollo had focused on for an inordinate amount of time. "That is the Titan Lord Kronos eating his children."

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because…"

"Kronos was King Titan, and he had heard that one of his children would overthrow him, so when Hestia, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, Hera, and Zeus were born he ate them to stay in power. But his wife, Rhea, didn't like this, and when Zeus was born she wrapped a rock in swaddling clothes, tricking her husband into eating that instead, and hid Zeus away in Crete. When Zeus grew up, he and Rhea tricked Kronos into drinking an emetic, so Kronos vomited his children," she paused for a moment, waiting for her classmates to stop gagging and making puking noises, "and the rock that was supposed to be Zeus. There was a war between the gods and the Titans, where the gods won, and Zeus became King."

There were some snickers from the group, and some that looked like they were trying to figure out what an emetic was.

Behind Andy, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to one of her friends, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted." Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face matching her hair.

Andy wasn't paying them any mind though, she was frowning at Mr. Brunner's question. Why would he ask her that, thinking her an ignorant demi-god having never been to camp, knowing that her answer would not be what he wanted? That it couldn't be what he wanted considering that he had not _told_ her of her godly heritage? It seemed rather pointless, he was just lucky that she couldn't lie to him, so she would have to give him an answer other than 'I don't know' which was what she wanted to say. "I suppose if you're a god this all seems rather important." Her voice was so flat and dry that everyone would take it as a joke.

Some of her class snickered, though Nancy seemed too stubborn to laugh at something Andy said, and Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "I see. Well, half credit, Miss Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the boys still snickering and being generally idiotic.

Andy made to follow them, Grover of course hovering somewhere behind her like all stalkers are supposed to be, but Mr. Brunner called her back, "Miss Jackson."

She turned to him, not bothering to tell Grover to leave (he wandered away on his own.) "Yes, Mr. B.?"

He had this look on his face, the kind that held you no matter how much you wanted to look away. His brown eyes were intense and sad, and Andy was sure that had she been able to lie in the first place, she would have had trouble lying to Mr. Brunner without guilt.

"You must learn the answer to my question," he told her.

"Mr. B., I answered your question."

"You must take it seriously," her stared into her face. "What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Andromeda Jackson."

Andy frowned, upset with what he was saying. She was probably the best in his class, and she worked hard for that mark, but the way he was talking to her it was as if she wasn't doing good enough. Maybe she could revise on the Latin verbs and conjugations, Andy thought in distress, or she could stay up a bit later to make sure she spelled everything right and that her dyslexia wasn't detracting how much effort seemed to be in her homework. It was difficult though, to remember the names of every Greek and Roman who ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. It also stressed Andy out with the way Mr. Brunner acted as if even though she had ADHD and dyslexia he thought that her work had to be ten times better than any of the other students. "I'll try harder, Mr. B."

Mr. Brunner took a long and sad look at the _stele_, like he was remembering the girl's funeral, then told Andy to go outside and eat her lunch.

* * *

The class clustered on the front steps of the museum, where Andy could see the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Andy looked up at the sky nervously. There was a storm brewing, with black clouds and ominous thunder. Her Uncle Zeus and Uncle Poseidon were obviously having a spat, which wasn't that surprising, but usually Apollo would tell her why any of the gods were fighting—it was often very amusing and petty and childish—but when Andy had asked him he had been vague and evasive. That made Andy figure it was important, because the weather had been weird since Christmas. There had been massive snow storms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes.

The guys were pelting pigeons with crackers, Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from an old lady's purse. Andy sat at the base of a tree, in its shadow where she blended, hoping that nobody knew that she was from _that_ school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere. Grover, of course, sat where he could get a good view of her at the edge of the fountain. His eyes darted to her then to the ground, then to her, then to the sky, then to her, then to his fingernails, then to her, then to the hem of his shirt, then—and what a surprise—to her once more. He was obviously trying to be inconspicuous—and failing miserably.

Andy brought out her lunch: a water bottle, green apple, banana, ham sandwich, and a baggie of homemade blue chocolate chip cookies that her mother had gotten Apollo to give to her the last time he had visited. She watched the stream of traffic going down Fifth Avenue, eating her cookies first, and thought about her mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where she sat currently. She felt a strong urge to jump into a cab and head home. Her mother would hug her and be so happy to see her, but Andy knew that she would also be disappointed. Andy would be sent right back to Yancy, her mom would tell her to try harder and to power through the frustration like always, even though this was Andy's sixth school in six years and no matter what she did she was probably going to be kicked out again because of the Principal's dislike of her and her 'accidents' and 'disruptions'. Andy wouldn't go home right now if only because she wouldn't be able to stand the look her mom would give her. She hated disappointing people.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicap ramp, eating celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table. Mr. Brunner always seemed to have an umbrella with him, and Andy theorized that it was because at camp it didn't rain—as Apollo had told her, and she always listened to what he said—and he was unused to more temperamental weather. (Andy didn't hold this against him, she herself got jumpy whenever there was thunder, and twitchy at the sight of lightning.)

Andy was just finishing her apple when Nancy Bobofit, followed by her ugly friends, dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap. Andy frowned; that was disgusting. She'd admit though that she was glad that Nancy was at least leaving her alone. Nancy was one of the few that pushed past her initial and irrational fear of Andy and now taunted her whenever she pleased. It was either bravery or stupidity, and Andy was leaning towards the latter.

Of course, then Nancy sauntered over to Andy in what could only be her attempt at a model walk. "Hey _Andrew_." The redhead sneered repulsively. Andy had actually asked Apollo if she was some kind of monster, but apparently she was just a very disgusting human. Andy had been a little disappointed. (And also, was it really such an insult to be called _Andrew Jackson_?)

Even though she knew Nancy was just trying to get a rise out of her, Andy flushed angrily. "It's Andy, are you so deficient that you can't remember a four letter name?" Andy held her water bottle tightly; the water churned.

Nancy scowled, then she smiled. It was ghastly. "That's right! Short for Andromeda!" Her eyes were malicious when she gasped in mock-surprise, "But that can't be! That's a _girl's_ name, and you're so obviously a _boy_."

She really tried to stay cool, Andy had never been one to explode without reason. She even tried out what the school councillor had recommended a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." It didn't work. The water from her water bottle rose without any movement from Andy, and flew strait into Nancy Bobofit's face, drenching the front of her shirt and hair—not to mention her mascara-covered face.

Nancy screamed, "Andy splashed me! On _purpose_!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized.

She was in one of her I-Hate-Andy moods, scowling and looking at Andy as if she was she were the thief and not Nancy. "Now, honey—" Mrs. Dodds started, in an overly sweet voice that she used whenever Andy was in trouble.

"I know," Andy sighed, "detention right?" That had always been the punishment that she had gotten previously whenever Mrs. Dodds was in one of her moods, so it seemed reasonable to assume that would be her punishment now. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

Andy didn't like her tone, it was making her nervous. "Mrs. D, it was just an accident…"

Mrs. Dodds glared. "Honey," she barked at Andy. "_Now_."

Nancy smirked in triumph, but when Andy gave her one of her best glares—the one where her eyes seem to look straight through to your soul and remind you of the fact that your death is inevitable—her face paled, making her freckles stand out more than usual.

Andy turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at Andy to come.

_Uh oh…_ Andy thought.

These were the type of moments where the school councillor said it was part of her ADHD, that her brain was misinterpreting things. Rubish.

Andy followed Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, she glanced back at Grover. He was using fountain water to try to clean off the remnants of Nancy Bobofit's lunch, completely unaware that his charge was walking away with a Fury that wanted to kill her. Andy cut her eyes to Mr. Brunner, but he was equally ignorant, absorbed in his novel and munching on his celery stick. She looked back at Mrs. Dodds, who had disappeared again. The Fury was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Andy really hoped that Mrs. Dodds was just going to make her buy Nancy a new shirt at the gift shop. It was not to be though.

Andy followed the 'teacher' deeper into the museum, and when she finally caught up with her, they were back in the Roman and Greek section. It was empty besides the two of them. Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods, making weird growling noises in her throat. Andy was nervous, she had been hoping that Mrs. Dodds would wait until the end of the school year to try and kill her, but with the way the Fury was acting now, and the way she stared at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it… well, she had finally cracked.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

"Uh… yeah. Sorry?" Were they seriously going to talk before she attempted murder? Was that how it worked with monsters? Andy wouldn't know, because she had never really had to fight one for real until this moment.

Mrs. Dodds tugged on the leather cuffs of her jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes was evil, but Andy was too confused to be that concerned by it. What had she gotten away with? What was going on?

"Uh…"

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Andy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

Andy had no idea what she was talking about.

If she hadn't known that she was talking to a Fury, she would have been concerned that the teachers might've found out about the illegal stash of candy that she had been selling out of her dorm room for an obnoxious price. Or maybe that there was something wrong with the essay she had handed in on _Tom Sawyer_, which would have sucked because she had labored over that every day for two weeks with her dyslexia, and had had a headache those two weeks because of it.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Uh…" Andy's left hand inched slowly to the ring on her opposite hand, on her index finger. The metal was gold, and the stone set in the middle, like a tiny sun, was yellow. Apollo had given it to her for her most recent birthday.

"Your time is up," Mrs. Dodds hissed.

Then her eyes began to glow like barbeque coals, her fingers stretched, turning into talons, and her jacket melted into large leathery wings. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs. She looked quite murderous, and to be honest, Andy's hand were shaking a bit as she pressed on the yellow stone on her ring, that turned into a beautiful golden bow.

Mrs. Dodds eyes widened as she lunged. She even tried to stop, because Andy had already notched a golden arrow that had just appeared as she pulled back her bow string, but her momentum carried her forward. Andy let loose the arrow, which hit Mrs. Dodds right in the forehead, and the Fury exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur, a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air.

Andy coughed a bit on the monster dust that she had accidentally breathed in, and pressed the lone yellow stone embedded in the middle of her bow, turning it back into the ring form, which she place back on her finger. It seemed a bit anticlimactic, but Andy was still proud of herself and how she handled the situation. Her first monster, and she hadn't had a panic attack. Job well done. (Though her hands were still trembling a bit from the adrenalin rush.)

Andy walked into the nearest shadow, and when she came out she was back at the shaded tree where she and Nancy had had their altercation. It had started to rain. Grover was still sitting by the fountain with a museum map tented over his head, but he looked more panicked than usual. Nancy was still standing by the tree, soaked from Andy's water bottle and grumbling to her ugly friends. Luckily, they were all looking away when Andy just appeared out of the tree's shadow.

Andy was pulling out an umbrella from her backpack when Nancy noticed her. "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

Andy looked at her, bored. "Why would she do that? That's totally against the law, and I really doubt _Mrs. Kerr_ carries a whip." _Mrs. Dodds however…_

Nancy just rolled her eyes and walked away. She knew that she was going to lose when Andy started to take everything literally. Andy just kept thinking that the Mist was the most wonderful thing in the universe.

Grover wandered over, which showed courage. "Where's Mrs. Dodds?" He asked Andy.

She looked at him blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." He said urgently.

Andy frowned and leaned forward—which made Grover lean back—trying to look mildly concerned when she could almost hear Apollo laughing in her head when she was going to tell him this story. "Grover, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy. Are you feeling alright? Maybe you should talk to Mr. B." The beautiful part about what she was saying was that it was all the truth: there never really had been a Mrs. Dodds.

Grover nodded quickly and scurried over to Mr. Brunner. When Andy next looked over to them, Mr. Brunner was looking at her in concern, and Grover was biting his nails nervously.


End file.
